


Smoking

by acertaindefenseattorney



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, Mild Period-Appropriate Homophobia, Smoking, Snippet, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5659696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acertaindefenseattorney/pseuds/acertaindefenseattorney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Like sneaking my kid brother his first smoke,’ Thomas smirked. 'Anyone would think you were a stranger to earthly pleasures, James.’</p><p>***</p><p>A snippet of a conversation, with some light banter and a little angst, taking place at some point during S4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Craftnarok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftnarok/gifts).



> This was going to be a small part of something longer, in response to Craftnarok's prompt, but that didn't pan out, so now you just have this little snippet here. Yaaaay.

‘Why _do_ you smoke, anyway, Mr Barrow, if you don’t mind my asking?’

Thomas glanced in Jimmy’s direction. Cigarette in hand, pillar of ash growing between finger and thumb.

'Nobody’s ever asked me that,’ he frowned. 'Why?’

'I don’t know. I suppose I’m not used to it. You and Miss O'Brien,’ to his credit, god bless him, he dropped a vial of poison into the name - always did, whenever possible, marking the distance between them and the 'unfortunate incident’ of the year past a little wider each time.

If Thomas had ever needed a reason to adore him, that would have been one.

’ - well, I don’t know,’ said Jimmy. ‘Silly question, isn’t it? We all have our habits, don’t we?’

'We do,' Thomas said - lips quirking, unbidden, at the corners. This was a reflex he’d been trying to train himself out of, where Jimmy was concerned, for he was so terribly tired of being caught laughing or smiling in his company, and feeling as guilty under Carson’s gaze as if he had stolen another six bottles of fine red wine. 

He hadn't, as yet, had much success. 

’We do,’ he repeated, ironing his smile out into a wry smirk. ‘Some of us, for example, drink, and gamble our wages away in the village pub…’

Jimmy laughed.

'Well, fair enough. I was curious, that’s all.’

He shook his head. 

‘It's hardly an interesting topic, Jimmy. As a young man, I picked up the habit, and I have not seen fit to stop.’

He threw Jimmy a sidelong glance. It was bitterly cold in the yard - the New Year was fast on the approach, and he could almost hear the creak of the day’s damp freezing on the ground. Jimmy’s cheeks were glowing. He shifted, foot to foot, keeping warm, while Thomas held his lighter up to the fading end of his cigarette, near-extinguished by the settling fog.

'You don’t have to stand out here with me, you know,’ he said, a half-thimble of affection to his voice, just enough, not too much. 'Don’t catch cold.’

'I’m alright,’ said Jimmy. 

And continued watching Thomas, smoking.

Eventually, he sighed, and held the packet out to him. 

Jimmy hesitated, working his face around the idea for a moment, before he took one. 

'Like sneaking my kid brother his first smoke,’ Thomas smirked. 'Anyone would think you were a stranger to earthly pleasures, James.’

Jimmy only smirked back, held out his other hand for the lighter. 'Do you have a kid brother?’

‘No, actually.’

'Do you have _any_ brothers?’ Jimmy inhaled, exhaled, spoke around the smoke.

'Only a sister,’ said Thomas; then, noting Jimmy’s general lack of spluttering, coughing or crying, he gestured toward the smoke. 'Not your first, after all?’

'Me dad smoked a pipe. It’s the same thing.’

Thomas snorted. ‘It is _not_.’ 

‘Plus - Lady A used to like a smoke. After…’

Ah.

Thomas fell silent - attempting to disguise his hurt with a lingering look up at the white sky, smirk fixed in place.

It was silly, to feel so stung, always, by any mention of an ex-lover of Jimmy’s - but he couldn’t help it. He looked down at his shoes and flicked ash quite deliberately toward the shining, black toes, feeling for all the world like an 11 year old boy - worshipping at his neighbour’s handsome feet, wounded and miserable every time he so much as mentioned a girl. 

His neighbour at least had been his elder, making the act of worship slightly less pathetic.

Jimmy was his younger. It would be a toss up to work out which of them had actually had the most lovers, he was sure, if not for the fact that only one of them was at liberty to brag.

He felt the sudden, childish need to compare anyway; propriety be damned. To regain a little footing on the topic. 

He owed himself that, at least.

'Same sort of thing started me off, as a matter of fact,’ he said, eventually, around a cloud of smoke.

And tried not to let Jimmy’s little grunt of disgust, or the downward curve of his mouth, cut at him too deep. 

Despite the cold, he lit a second. 


End file.
